


Whispers

by izayoi_no_mikoto



Category: Tokyo Babylon
Genre: M/M, POV Outsider, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-08
Packaged: 2019-06-30 08:35:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15748116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/izayoi_no_mikoto/pseuds/izayoi_no_mikoto
Summary: The world will break Subaru's heart a million times, but at least Hokuto knows he will be loved.





	Whispers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



Hokuto has always known that Subaru is special.

From the time they were children, he's had spiritual abilities far beyond measure; even their grandmother, younger then but no less steely, had been taken aback when she'd discovered the depth of his potential.  And he's not merely spiritually powerful; he is kind, too, the kindest person Hokuto has ever known.  He views all life as precious, all emotions as valid, all broken hearts as deserving of tenderness.  If he saw a girl crying in the park, he would approach and ask her what was wrong; if he saw an injured bird on the ground, he would nurture it until it healed; if he saw a wounded soul lashing out, he would step forward to accept the blow.  He's always been that kind of person.  There is no one else like Subaru, no one as powerful or sensitive or kind or easy to shatter.

It only makes sense that someone as special as Subaru would have a mark.

Hokuto doesn't need to be told that he has a mark; she's known it her entire life, without basis or evidence but with utter certainty.  It's taboo to discuss marks; most people don't have one, and it's cruel to remind them of this fact.  Hokuto doesn't have a mark, either.  She doesn't mourn or bewail this, only accepts it with uncharacteristically quiet aplomb, because very few people have marks, and Hokuto is nothing special, is not the type of person to have a mark.  But Subaru--Subaru is special.  So even when she was a child too young to understand exactly what it meant, even though for years she did not see it and he did not breathe a word of it, she knew.  She's always known.  Subaru has a mark, and there is someone out there, someone waiting for him, someone waiting to speak those words to him with their dying breath.

* * *

The mark is on his right hand, and he hides it with a glove.  Even in Hokuto's earliest memories, she cannot recall ever seeing him without a glove over his right hand.  No one tells her the reason, no one even broaches the subject, but she knows:  He wears the glove to hide his mark, to keep anyone from seeing the words etched into his skin.

When they are children, Subaru leaves for a year, and when they are reunited, he is wearing gloves on both hands.  It unsettles Hokuto at first, but then she realizes that this is more natural, more normal.  Someone who wears only one glove is obviously hiding a mark, but someone wearing two gloves, even a ten-year-old boy, is just wearing gloves.  Surely that is why he wears a pair of gloves now, a proper pair--to avoid flaunting that he has a mark.

(She was young then, so young.  Too young to have known better.)

* * *

Hokuto's spiritual abilities have never been anywhere near comparable to Subaru's, but neither is she powerless.  There are spells she can wield, spiritual signs she can see.  She might not be an onmyouji herself, but onmyoudou is not entirely beyond her, and so Subaru's work is no mystery to her.  She knows just enough to understand her own impotence, to grasp her own helplessness and curse her inability to lighten his burden.

Subaru takes on the mantle of responsibility as the thirteenth head of the Sumeragi clan as though he were placed upon this earth for the sole purpose of buckling beneath its weight.  He is so good, so honest, so true and pure of heart, that he works himself to the bone, and deeper.  He subsumes himself to his duty, ignores his own fears and sufferings as he faces the dark underbelly of humanity, and flinches only when he fails.

Subaru is ten, and he cannot stop a woman from committing suicide on the same train track that her husband jumped onto one year earlier.

Subaru is eleven, and he tries to comfort the ghost of an old woman who died alone in her drafty one-room apartment and went undiscovered for months.

Subaru is twelve, and he meets a man whose self-recrimination keeps him from praying at the altar of his parents, who perished in a typhoon in the dying rural village he'd abandoned for the city years ago.

Subaru is thirteen, and he watches a mother refuse to switch off her braindead teenage son's medical ventilator as his spirit begs her to let him go.

Subaru is fourteen, and he listens to the sorrows of an elderly man whose dying wish to teach the magic of his native Ainu language to his scornful children and indifferent grandchildren will go ungranted.

Subaru is fifteen, and he consoles the girl who'd fled to a university halfway across the country only to find that she could not outrun the vicious rumors started by the girl she'd confessed her love to in high school.

Subaru is sixteen, and he fails to dissuade a haggard, wan businessman, miserable and overworked and boxed-in at his soulless 7-to-10 office job, from using an untested magic to try to kill his boss.

Subaru is sixteen, and he's killing himself.  He's doing so much good in the world, helping the people only he can help, but his charity and grace and generosity of spirit are too rarely returned or appreciated, and each job shaves slivers off his soul.  He does not consider it a price he is willing to pay, for even that would be some kind of choice; in his eyes, it is a law of nature, unquestionable and undeniable, that he should suffer for the sins of others.  Hokuto can see it happening, and so she becomes bubbly and effervescent, laughs too loudly, cooks delicious meals, makes fun clothes in bright colors.  It helps, for a while; Subaru's eyes brighten and his expression softens and the tension seeps from his too-narrow shoulders.  But by the time his next job is over, his face is just a bit more bloodless and his eyes just a bit more downcast, and in the privacy of her room, Hokuto holds her head in her hands and bites back despair and desperately wracks her mind for something, anything, that can make Subaru realize the value of his own life.

But Subaru doesn't understand how to place himself first, he never has, and Hokuto doesn't know how to teach him.

Then she meets Seishirou, and she _knows_.

* * *

Subaru tells her one day how he'd chased an unruly shikigami through the train station, tripped over his own feet, and gone sprawling in most dramatic fashion, only to be helped up by a kindly man who asked if he was all right.

"He could see the shikigami," Subaru says, his voice rising in excitement.  "But he's not a working onmyouji.  He's a _veterinarian_!  He runs his own animal clinic!"

A man with spiritual powers who had instead dedicated his life to helping animals.  _He's living your best life_ , Hokuto thinks, but she does not speak the thought aloud, because Subaru has long since abandoned his childhood dream of being a zookeeper, and with it the very concept that his life could have taken a different path.  Subaru sacrifices; the world turns on its axis.  "He sounds interesting," Hokuto says mildly.

"He is," Subaru replies, earnest as ever.  "I think he _could_ be an onmyouji, if he wanted.  I told him a bit about the job I'd just finished, and he understood everything.  I didn't need to explain how negative energy could attach itself to those handwritten letters.  In fact, he had a very creative idea of how to unbind the energy from the ink.  I wish I'd met him on my way to the job, I think he would have been interested to see the letters in person."

Hokuto's eyebrows go up.  "You never take laypeople to your jobs," she says.  He rarely takes _anyone_ to his jobs, but certainly not someone who isn't intimately familiar with his work.

"He's not a layperson," Subaru counters.  "I mean, _technically_ he is, but he _must_ have some sort of training--no one has that kind of knowledge and sensitivity purely by dint of natural talent."

Hokuto hums vaguely.  She would suspect that Subaru is overselling things--he's always seen the best in people--but he's an onmyouji through and through, and even he wouldn't be blinded by optimism on the matter of spiritual ability.  This mysterious stranger must be as capable as Subaru says, and that's an awesome thing to consider.  "And?" she prods.

"And then he told me about his clinic," Subaru continues, his eyes sparkling.  "He had a patient recently, a dog with lymphoma, and he suggested they try a new drug treatment, and the dog went into remission in a month!  And someone showed up with a litter of kittens that were FIV-positive, and he saved two of them and adopted them out.  And--"

Hokuto laughs.  "Did you just hold him up at the train station for two hours to talk about animals?" she asks.  "Maybe he had plans that you interrupted."

"I did not keep him at the train station for two hours!  We went to a cafe," Subaru says.  "And I don't think he was busy.  He's the one who suggested we go get coffee."

 _His_ idea?  Subaru falling into long conversations with complete strangers is hardly unheard of--he nods solemnly along with the incomprehensible babble of one-year-olds, listens raptly for hours as wheelchair-bound centenarians tell stories about the great-grandchildren they barely know, drinks canned milk tea with mopey salarymen who have just lost their jobs.  Subaru  _cares_ , in a way that few sympathetic ears sincerely do; he's genuinely interested in what other people have to say.  So usually, he's the one to extend the conversation, not the other way around.

"He asked you to coffee?" Hokuto asks, wagging her eyebrows roguishly.  "Oho!  My precious brother, being hit on by an older man!"

" _Hokuto-chan_!" Subaru protests, going red.  "It wasn't like that!"

Hokuto guffaws.  "Of course it wasn't," she teases.  "I'm glad you had a nice conversation.  What's his name?"

"Seishirou-san," Subaru promptly replies.

"Oh, on a first-name basis already?"  Hokuto leers.  "What's his last name?"

Instantly, Subaru deflates.  Hokuto's light heart falters.  "Subaru?"

Subaru lowers his head.  "I didn't ask," he mumbles.

Hokuto sighs.  " _Subaru_."  He has his share of empty-headed moments, but this one really takes the cake.

"I didn't even think about it," Subaru says, crestfallen.  He stares down at his gloved hands, wringing his fingers unhappily.  "We talked for a while, but it didn't even occur to me to ask his last name!  Or his contact information!  How am I supposed to find him again?  I wanted to talk to him more."

Hokuto pats his cheek.  "Chin up," she says, offering him a sympathetic smile.  "You were able to have a wonderful conversation with someone who understands you.  Once-in-a-lifetime meetings like that are meant to be appreciated.  And who knows?  If it's meant to happen, maybe you'll meet again."

Subaru dredges up a wistful smile.  "It would be nice to talk to him again," he says, but they both know the odds of that.  Tokyo is a city of nearly twelve million people; chance meetings don't happen twice.  Subaru will never meet this nice, spiritually sensitive veterinarian again.  Still, it's a nice thought.

* * *

Subaru has a job in Jinbou-chou, something involving an occult book at one of the dozens of bookstores in the neighborhood.  "Why don't I go with you?" Hokuto suggests.

"Hokuto-chan," Subaru says, with that slightly pained expression he gets sometimes, the one that says he loves her but doesn't know what to do with her.  "I can handle the job myself."

"Oh, not _that_ ," Hokuto says with a dismissive wave of her hand.  "I'm not interested in your _job_.  But a new cafe opened near the station, and I've heard delectable things about their cakes.  And they're supposed to have the _best_ blueberry tarts.  This is just the excuse I need to go there and eat dessert!"

Subaru sighs, but his eyes are laughing.  "Well, if you don't mind waiting for me," he says.

Subaru's job is at a small used bookstore, one Nekomaru Used Books.  It's a cramped and dark place, with narrow aisles between ceiling-high shelves crammed with books.  It's owned and run by a middle-aged woman named Nekoi Masako.  She's tiny and waifish, with graying hair cut short and worry-lined eyes behind petite half-moon glasses, and she seems utterly perplexed when Subaru approaches and introduces himself.

"You're the onmyouji?" she asks, her eyebrows rising.  She looks him up and down, a quick flicker of her eyes.  "I hadn't expected you to be so young," she admits.

"He may be young, but he's quite talented!" Hokuto interjects.

" _Hokuto-chan._ "

The woman glances at Hokuto.  "And you would be...?"

"His sister, Sumeragi Hokuto!"  Hokuto bows and pops back up with a grin.  "Don't mind me, I'm just tagging along."

"I see," the woman says faintly.  She turns back to Subaru, hesitant, and chews her lower lip as though torn.  At last, she walks to the door and flips the sign over to read CLOSED.  "Well, then, Sumeragi-san," she says to Subaru, her voice still dubious, "please, this way."

They proceed into a back room, no doubt where the occult book in question is being kept.  "Nekoi-san, could you tell me how you acquired this book?" Subaru asks, polite as ever, and then the door closes behind them, leaving Hokuto alone in the store.

She glances around, taking in the jumble of books and labyrinth of shelves.  There is some method to the madness--historical fiction on one wall, books in translation down this aisle, manga in that corner--but there are frequent breakdowns in the order.  A dozen encyclopedic tomes of Chinese art are piled precariously on a table next to carefully arranged stacks of Tsutsui Yasutaka novels; a sociology book, provocatively titled _What If Everything We Know About Marks Is Wrong_ , is shelved amongst travel guides.  Hokuto roams the store aimlessly, her fingers running along the spines of a long row of Nishimura Kyoutarou murder mysteries, paging through a copy of _Shin-chan_.  She's admittedly not much of a reader, so she occupies herself by poking around in dusty nooks and crannies and trying to find the strangest books she can, just for amusement's sake.

She's got her nose buried in a photo book of Taisho-era styles when a voice lets out a short, piercing shriek from the back room.  Hokuto whirls around to face the closed door, her heart pounding and her senses on full alert.  But she can hear Subaru's voice, the words indistinct but the cadence soft and assured, and while she can feel a spiritual aura emanating from the room, it isn't dangerous, or at least not too dangerous for Subaru to handle with ease.  She closes her eyes for a moment in relief, then returns her attention to the book.

Subaru emerges from the room a few minutes later, perfectly unruffled and chatting easily with the bookstore owner.  "--an occult book, yes, but it wasn't anything to do with the book itself.  See, someone was trying to use the spells in the book with bad intentions, and those negative emotions became attached to the book.  They were the cause of the peculiar occurrences you've been experiencing.  But I've exorcised them, so you should have no further problems.  The book should be safe to sell, now, or to add to your collection if you'd rather keep it yourself."

The owner is clearly much relieved to have found an answer to her dilemma; she stands straighter, as though a burden has been lifted from her shoulders, and the creases around her eyes have smoothed out somewhat.  "Thank you so much, Sumeragi-san," she says, bowing deeply.  "I can't tell you how much I appreciate this, you've been a huge help to me--"

She continues in the same vein for several minutes, so effusive in her gratitude that Subaru blushes and stammers and waves his hands, trying to stem the flow.  At last, Nekoi-san has expressed her thanks to her satisfaction, and she sees Subaru and Hokuto out of the bookstore with one last bow.  The bell on the door jingles as the door gently swings shut, and Subaru heaves a great sigh.

"Tough job?" Hokuto asks.

Subaru shakes his head.  "If every one of my jobs was this straightforward, my life would be a lot easier," he says, his smile tired.  "But this was clearly a very stressful situation for Nekoi-san.  She'd never seen an onmyouji before, you know.  She was confused and nervous about what was happening.  And she loves books, you know, so it was especially upsetting to her.  She didn't just need an exorcism; she needed reassurance."  He slowly exhales, gazing at something far, far away.  "People come to an onmyouji because they have a spiritual problem, but sometimes, the help they really need is emotional or personal."

 _It always is, when you're the onmyouji_ , Hokuto thinks.

She doesn't say that.  "Well, congratulations on another successful job," she says instead, linking her arm in Subaru's.  "And now that you're done, we should celebrate with cake!"

And she drags his down the street, ignoring his protestations the whole way.

The cafe isn't far, not ten minutes' walk.  It isn't hard to find; it's a block away from the station, and it boasts enormous windows that provide a clear view of the assembly of spindly, elegant metal tables where young women eat gorgeous cakes off tiny, doily-adorned plates.  Inside, the air conditioner blasts over glass cases full of cakes, tarts, torts, pies, and all sorts of delicious-looking baked goods.  Hokuto gasps and plasters herself against the glass, practically drooling.  "It all looks so amazing!  Ooh, mille crepe cake!  The apple pie looks so good.  Oh, the blueberry tart _does_ look incredible!  Oh, what should we get?"

"Whatever you want, Hokuto-chan," Subaru says, bemused.

So Hokuto takes charge, and five minutes later, they're sitting at a small circular table in the corner of the cafe with two coffees, a blueberry tart, and a slice of chocolate cheesecake.  "We'll share, of course," Hokuto declares, handing Subaru a fork.  "Which one do you want to start with?"

"You're the one who wanted to come here," Subaru reminds her.  "You pick."

So she takes the blueberry tart and digs in with gusto.  It's just as delicious as she'd heard--the blueberries are fresh and juicy, popping in a burst of flavor in her mouth, and the custard is creamy and cold, just a bit sweet and just a bit lemony, and the crust is buttery and flaky.  She closes her eyes as she savors it.  "You have to try this, Subaru," she says, pushing the plate over to him.

"I haven't even tried mine yet," he protests.  "Shouldn't I--"

Hokuto stabs another bite onto her fork and crams it into his mouth.  "Try it," she says, very much after the fact.

Subaru chews, and his eyes light up.  "That's very good," he says, sounding almost surprised.  He delicately slices another bite off with the side of his fork.  And another.  And another.

Hokuto smiles fondly.  She can never be sure how Subaru will feel coming out of a job--if he'll succeed, if he'll ease his client's suffering, if he'll emerge bearing someone else's scars.  He called this job straightforward, but there's no such thing as a straightforward job for an onmyouji, and least of all Subaru; he'll have seen something, heard something, experienced something that will linger in the back of his mind, that will creep out under the cover of night and attempt to drag him into the darkness.  Subaru's a strong person, with honesty and optimism and compassion like steel in his bones, and he will not yield to the world's darkness, but it will still chip away at him, bit by bit, and there isn't much Hokuto can do to help him or protect him from that.  But if she can bring a smile to his face by feeding him dessert after a job, well, that's a small price to pay.

And the tart really is quite delicious.

Hokuto takes a bite of the cheesecake.  The chocolate is in ripples, the taste light and complementary rather than overwhelming.  "This is really good, too," she says, and she sips her coffee as Subaru proceeds to try the cheesecake.

She's trying to decide what light-hearted, enlivening subject to bring up, what topic of conversation will distract him and brighten his mood even just a little bit--does she talk about the new outfit she's thinking of making, or the funny variety show she watched the other day, or the adorable little girl she saw playing with an equally adorable puppy at the park?--but then a voice derails her train of thought and shatters their two-person bubble.  " _Subaru-kun_?"

Subaru's head whips to the side, and Hokuto turns around in her seat to follow his gaze.  A man in a boxy black suit is bustling toward their table.  He's tall and broad-shouldered, with surprised eyes behind round glasses and slightly mussed hair.  Hokuto has never seen him in her life.

But Subaru leaps to his feet, his palms flat against the tabletop.  " _Seishirou-san_?"

"Seishirou-san?" Hokuto echoes, baffled.  Then memory clicks into place--Subaru telling her a story.  The shikigami, the train station, the two-hour conversation at the cafe.  Subaru's failure to ask for contact information.  "Wait, _t_ _hat_ Seishirou-san?!"

"It _is_ Subaru-kun!"  The man approaches the table, his expression open and friendly.  "Fancy meeting you here!  My goodness, what a coincidence!  I'm so glad I ran into you again--I realized after I left that I'd neglected to ask for your contact information.  How boneheaded of me!"

The surprise on Subaru's face has transformed into excitement.  "Seishirou-san, what a pleasant surprise!  Please, won't you join us?"  He gestures to an empty chair.

"Well, if you insist," Seishirou says modestly, and he takes a seat.

Subaru's about to make introductions--Hokuto can tell, because he's always been polite and proper that way--but Hokuto leaps in before he can open his mouth.  "You must be Seishirou-san," she says, leaning forward and looking him up and down speculatively.  "I heard you two met when Subaru tripped over his own feet at the train station?"

Subaru groans.  " _Hokuto-chan,_ " he says.

Seishirou turns to Hokuto with a broad, guileless smile.  "And you must be Hokuto-chan.  Subaru-kun told me all about you.  You look lovely today--did you make that dress?"

Hokuto knows next to nothing about the man, but she instantly likes him.  "I did!" she exclaims, and she jumps to her feet and poses dramatically.  She's quite proud of this dress--it might be one of her best, if she may say so herself.  It has a ruffly skirt dagged in teal and aqua, a black corset-style bodice, and a high neck and poofy sleeves, as well as a matching hat adorned with an iridescent feather.  "Isn't it marvelous?"

"Wonderful," Seishirou agrees, his voice appropriately awed.  "So bold and colorful, and your hat is so striking.  Not enough women wear hats nowadays.  You could be a real fashion icon."

Hokuto squeals and playfully smacks his hand.  "Oh, you flatterer, you!"

"It's not flattery if it's true," Seishirou replies with a wink.

By now, Subaru has buried his face in his hands and is emitting a low moan, as though there are no words to convey the depth of his embarrassment and he regrets every choice that brought him to this point.  Hokuto ignores him and adjusts her hat to a jaunty angle before sitting down again.  "Well, I'm glad you appreciate my stylistic vision," she says.  "I make Subaru outfits, too, but I don't think he _appreciates_ my talents and hard work properly."

"I can't understand why not," Seishirou replies.  "He told me that you make clothes, but he didn't say that your fashion sense was so unique and stylish."

Scratch that--she doesn't like Seishirou, she _adores_ him.  He clearly knows the way to a woman's heart.  "Thank you, Sei-chan--you don't mind if I call you Sei-chan, do you?"

He's still smiling.  "Not at all, Hokuto-chan."

Subaru peeks out from between his fingers.  "Seishirou-san," he mumbles, "please don't encourage her."

"Of course I'm going to encourage her!" Seishirou exclaims.  "Such artistry deserves to be encouraged.  And I would love to see you wearing some of those outfits.  I'm sure you would look quite handsome in them."

Subaru _blushes_.

Hokuto gapes.

"Might I ask what brings you here?" Seishirou asks mildly, as though he doesn't notice their reactions to his previous words.  "I'd hoped I might run into you again somewhere, Subaru-kun, but I hadn't imagined it would be a hip new cafe like this."

"I had a job in the area," Subaru replies, "and Hokuto-chan suggested that we come here afterward.  Apparently they're famous for their blueberry tart."  He glances down at their own tart, most of which he has already eaten.  Then he laughs, a bit sheepishly.  "It _is_ quite delicious."

"Well, then, I think I know what I should order," Seishirou says, rising from his seat.  "Can I get either of you anything?"

"No thank you," Subaru says, polite as ever.

"Well, if you're offering, I'd like another coffee, please," Hokuto says, holding up her near-empty cup.

Subaru stares at her, bug-eyed.  "Hokuto-chan!  Don't be rude!"

"I wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it," Seishirou says.  He leans forward, tilting his head as he gazes into Subaru's eyes.  "Are you sure you don't want anything?"  His face is close to Subaru's, quite close.  He is... not subtle.  At all.

But Subaru doesn't draw back, doesn't even flinch.  "I'm sure," he says.  "But thank you."

Seishirou smiles at him, and Hokuto feels, suddenly, like a glass wall has been erected between her and them.  Seishirou has tunnel vision; it's as though he can no longer see her, as though she doesn't even exist.  He has eyes for no one but Subaru.

Subaru just gazes back, solemn and unwavering, as though he cannot tear his eyes away.

"Well, then," Seishirou says, and the moment is shattered.  He straightens.  "I'll be back in just a moment," he says, and he strides towards the counter.

Hokuto watches him go, and the moment she thinks he's out of earshot, she whirls on her brother.  "Subaru!  I can't believe you!"  she hisses.  "You didn't tell me he was young!  And good-looking!  And _into you_!"

"Hokuto-chan!" Subaru hisses back.  "Shh!  Not so loud!"  He glances uneasily toward the front of the cafe, but Seishirou is blithely yammering away at cashier, to all appearances completely oblivious to the whispered conversation happening behind his back.  Subaru turns back to her, but his eyes are darting this way and that, avoiding her gaze.  "It's not like that."

"It's _totally_ like that!" Hokuto whispers.  "He's _interested_ in you!  Like _that_!"

"Hokuto-chan," Subaru says, and now he sounds downright pained. 

"My little brother, pursued by a gentleman suitor," Hokuto continues, unable to repress her own glee.  "He seems very kind and polite.  And a veterinarian _and_ an onmyouji!"

"He isn't actually an onmyouji," Subaru says, his voice strained.

Hokuto waves his objection off.  "Close enough.  Subaru, he's such a gentleman!  So polite!  So sincere!  Even if you _are_ a bit young for him."

Subaru's blush has returned with a vengeance.  But before he can argue further, Seishirou returns to their table, whistling a cheery tune.  He carries a tray holding two cups of coffee, one of which he hands over to Hokuto, and his own blueberry tart.  He sits down, takes off his suit jacket, and picks up his fork.  "This looks excellent," he says.  " _Itadakimasu!_ "

Hokuto gives him enough time to try the blueberry tart, comment on how delicious it is, and take a sip of coffee before she launches her attack.  "So, Sei-chan, what are _you_ doing in this part of town?" she asks, batting her eyes innocently.  "You don't see many men walk into a cafe like this without a lady friend."

Seishirou sets down his coffee cup, not at all flustered by her question.  "I ordered a book from a nearby bookstore," he replies.  "I was on my way to pick it up when I spotted Subaru-kun.  I thought it couldn't be him, but I had to come in and check, just to make sure.  Imagine my surprise when I saw it really was him!"

Hokuto cranes her neck, looking back over her shoulder.  They're seated in the back corner of the cafe, but it isn't impossible that Seishirou might have spotted them from outside; the wall is almost entirely window, and Subaru is facing the front.  "And you recognized him?" Hokuto asks.

"I think I'd recognize Subaru-kun anywhere!" Seishirou replies, smiling widely.

Subaru chokes on his coffee.

* * *

They stay at the cafe for an hour, chatting and cleaning their plates.  Eventually, Seishirou checks his wristwatch and heaves a reluctant sigh.  "I'm afraid I should be heading out soon," he says apologetically.  "I still need to pick up my book."

Subaru's expression is dismayed, but he doesn't voice his disappointment.  "I understand," he says instead.  "I hope we can meet again, Seishirou-san."

Seishirou snaps his fingers as though a brilliant idea has just occurred to him.  "Of course!  I can't believe I nearly forgot a second time."  He digs into the pocket of his jacket for a moment and procures a business card, which he extends held properly in both hands.  "Here, my business card."

Subaru takes it with a formal bow, then makes a show of reading the entire thing.  Hokuto peers over his shoulder.  _Sakurazuka Seishirou_ , it says.

"Sakurazuka," Subaru reads aloud.

"Sakurazuka," Hokuto echoes.

Wordlessly, their eyes meet.

There are many onmyouji in Japan.  Subaru is one of the best, but he certainly isn't alone.  And not all onmyouji are as good or kind as him; not all adhere to the same morals, or hold to the same ethics, or serve the same humane purpose.  Hokuto is hardly an onmyouji herself, but even she knows full well about the Sakurazukamori.

Suddenly, the amiable, gregarious gentleman flirting outrageously with her brother looks like nothing but a shadowy stranger.

"Ah," Seishirou says, and he rubs the back of his head and laughs awkwardly.  His expression is somewhere between a wince and a rueful smile.  "Yes.  Well, one cannot choose one's family, after all."

"So you are," Subaru says carefully, hedging his words.  " _That_ Sakurazuka."

" _I_ am a veterinarian," Seishirou says.  He's smiling with closed eyes.  "I've learned some things about onmyoudou, but--well.  As I said, I am nothing but a simple veterinarian."

When he opens his eyes, his gaze is sharp, and Hokuto shivers.

A heartbeat later, his expression softens, turning into something heartfelt and earnest.  "I really do respect what you do, though, Subaru-kun," he says.  "There are many reasons why I chose not to follow the family path, such as--well, that's a conversation for another day.  But one of those reasons is that, ability aside, I don't think I'm cut out to be a working onmyouji.  It requires talents that I do not possess.  But you, Subaru-kun--you have those talents.  I admire you for that."

"You're too kind, Seishirou-san," Subaru says quietly.

"I don't think you understand what a rarity you are," Seishirou replies.  "I think you're much more than you give yourself credit for."

Hokuto stares at him, her throat dry.  He said it so naturally, as though he's plumbed the depths of Subaru's soul and knows with absolute certainty what it contains.  And Hokuto herself has told Subaru similar things before, told him that he was doing good in a way few people could, told him that he was special, but this time--

This time, Subaru looks uncertain, as though he might actually allow himself to believe it.

Seishirou gathers up his suit jacket.  "I hope I can see you again soon, Subaru-kun," he says.  "I'm sure you're busy, but any time you have a free moment, please don't hesitate to call me.  Any time--you can page me if I don't pick up."

"It was nice to meet you, Sei-chan," Hokuto says.

Seishirou smiles at her.  "The pleasure was all mine."  Then he turns his attention back to Subaru.  "I do hope I can see you soon," he says softly, and Subaru, all wide eyes and flushed cheeks, nods.  Seishirou offers him one last smile, then makes his final farewells and walks out of the cafe.  Subaru's eyes trail after him the entire time.

"Subaru," Hokuto says quietly, but Subaru doesn't answer.  He hasn't heard her at all.  She watches him for a long, long moment, unease roiling in her gut.

She's only met Seishirou this one time, but there are two things about him that she already knows, knows down to the marrow of her bones.  The first is that he is dangerous.  She doesn't know the full scope of his spiritual abilities, hasn't seen what he might be capable of, but she trusts Subaru's assessment.  There are few people with that sort of power, even fewer with any significant training, and fewer still with the last name Sakurazuka.

The second is that Seishirou _understands_ Subaru, in a way few people truly do.

Subaru would disagree with this idea on principle alone.  He believes that every person is individual and unique, that it's impossible to really understand, in your heart of hearts, what someone else thinks and feels.  And maybe he's right.  After all, Hokuto knows that she can never be anyone but herself, that she can never see the world perfectly from someone else's eyes.  But if it _is_ possible for anyone to understand Subaru, _truly_ understand him, then Seishirou might be the one to do it.

* * *

Over the next few days, Subaru spends long hours staring at Seishirou's business card.  SAKURAZUKA ANIMAL CLINIC, it reads in block English letters.  _Sakurazuka Seishirou_ , it reads in prim Japanese kanji.  Subaru picks it up to study it.  He traces the kanji for 'star,' the first character of Seishirou's name, with one gloved fingertip.  He sets the card on the tabletop and just looks at it, his hands clasped before him, his brow furrowed.

"Hokuto-chan," he eventually says, "what do you think?"  He's holding the business card in one hand; the edges of the card stock have gone soft beneath his fidgeting fingers.

Hokuto taps her fingers against the arm of her chair, pursing her lips in contemplation.  "If he _is_ related to the Sakurazukamori," she says, slowly.  She doesn't finish the thought.

If he is related to the Sakurazukamori--if, despite his assurances to the contrary, he's _involved_ in the Sakurazukamori business of murder--then this budding friendship cannot continue.  The mere possibility makes him exceedingly dangerous, and the smart thing to do would be to turn around and run in the opposite direction and never, ever look back.

Seishirou doesn't _seem_ dangerous.  He seems like a perfectly nice, balanced, well-adjusted gentleman--one who has greater spiritual knowledge and ability than most, yes, but still within the bounds of normality.  During Hokuto's one meeting with him, he was friendly, considerate, keenly interested in Subaru.  He seems like the type of person who has always been missing from Subaru's life.

But he comes from an onmyouji family named _Sakurazuka_ , and that means there's only one real choice.

"He just _told_ us, though," Subaru says softly.  He doesn't look up at Hokuto; his voice quavers, as though he is lost.  "He knew who I was.  He had to know I would recognize that name.  If he wanted to hide it, there are a million ways he could have done it.  He could have lied about his last name, or said it was a coincidence, or just not told us.  He certainly wouldn't have given me his business card with his full name written on it.  But it obviously didn't even occur to him.  He just gave me his business card without a second thought."  Subaru shakes his head.  His hand tightens on the business card in question, creasing it.  "He didn't even try to lie or hide who he is.  If he _were_ involved with the Sakurazukamori, why would he freely admit his connection to them?"

Subaru finally looks up, and his expression breaks Hokuto's heart.  He's wavering between hope and suspicion, torn between optimism and realism.  Subaru has always held true to his own moral compass, one that has near-infinite faith in the potential and value of each and every soul no matter what darkness it may contain.  Here, too, he wants to believe the best.  He wants to believe that Seishirou is exactly who and what he claims to be, and that the man can be a Sakurazuka without being a Sakurazukamori.

Hokuto sees more clearly.  _It could be part of a plot_ , she thinks.  _He might have played his cards this way exactly because he knows it makes him look innocent.  It would be child's play, if he really is part of the Sakurazukamori.  The best lie is 99% true.  The best way to earn someone's trust is to tell them all your sins before they find out on their own._

Subaru surely knows this; he just needs someone to confirm it.  And that's why Hokuto needs to tell him.  She needs to say that the danger, no matter how far-fetched or unlikely, is not an impossibility.  She needs to say that this man cannot be trusted.  But when she looks at Subaru, his eyes are moist, his gaze wavering, his hands trembling with the strength of his yearning, his expression wide open and beseeching.

 _I can't_ , Hokuto realizes.  _I can't_.

She doesn't know enough about Seishirou, cannot declare him safe or truthful.  But she's known Subaru their entire lives, and she has eyes to see, and she knows that, if she allows it, this man could become special to Subaru, in a way no one else ever has, a way Hokuto had begun to fear no one ever would.

So she swallows down her anxieties and doubts, knits together a blithe smile, and cheerfully says, "You're right.  If he _did_ have something to do with the Sakurazukamori, he wouldn't have revealed his name so easily, right?"

"That's what I was thinking," Subaru says, relief audible in his voice.

Hokuto nods firmly.  "It doesn't make sense for him to tell us he's a Sakurazuka if he's a Sakurazukamori," she declares with a confidence she doesn't feel.  Then she winks at him, teasing and exaggerated.  "And he certainly did seem sincere enough in his interest in you!"

Subaru's face goes pink.  "Hokuto-chan, _please_."

She takes his hand in hers, pries his fingers off the business card, and gently flattens out the crease.  Then she places it in his hand once again.  "Call him," she says gently.  "If that's what you want, call him."  She pauses.  "He's probably waiting for you."

Subaru hesitates, his eyes downcast.  Then he picks up the phone, glances at the business card, and dials.

* * *

Seishirou insinuates himself into their lives--into _Subaru's_ life--like he's always belonged there.  He has bright, sparkling eyes and a goofy smile and gentle hands.  He has an onmyouji's sensitivity to the supernatural and a rare understanding of the true meaning and importance of Subaru's work.  And he has a boundless well of affection for Subaru that manifests itself in a myriad of ways--words of encouragement, a sympathetic ear, car rides to jobs, a supportive shoulder.  Seishirou is solicitous, and tender-hearted, and blunt in his affections, and Subaru may blush and deny, but he gravitates toward Seishirou all the same.

"Subaru-kun works too hard," Seishirou comments one day, peeling potatoes with a steady hand.  He and Hokuto are making dinner, preparing nikujaga to fight off the encroaching winter chill; he's chopping the vegetables while she slices the pork.  Subaru, meanwhile, is stretched out on the sofa in the living room, his back to them, his head pillowed in his arms.  Hokuto is fairly sure that he's asleep, though it's impossible to tell for sure.  She _hopes_ he's asleep; he hasn't said anything to worry her, but she knows he hasn't been sleeping well, and there are circles under his eyes near-constantly nowadays.

"I know," Hokuto replies.  She pours a bit of oil into the waiting pot, then tosses in the onion before returning to her chopping.  "But he won't slow down.  He feels responsible."

"For what?" Seishirou asks.

"For everything," Hokuto says.

Seishirou rinses the peeled potatoes, his expression thoughtful.  He starts chopping them into slightly uneven pieces.  "I wish he would take a break sometimes," he says at last, his eyes never looking away from the cutting board.  "I wish he weren't so hard on himself.  But I wouldn't take away that sense of responsibility.  It's one of the things that makes Subaru-kun who he is."

Hokuto chops the last piece of pork, then dumps it into the pot with the onion.  She doesn't say anything.

For several minutes, they work in silence.  Seishirou finishes chopping the potatoes and moves on to the carrots; Hokuto adds the rest of the vegetables as he finishes chopping them, then pours in the dashi.  They watch the nikujaga burble away.

"I love him, you know."

The words come out of nowhere.  Seishirou says it simply, as though it's a matter of course, as obvious and inescapable and unchangeable as gravity.

"I know," Hokuto replies, just as simply.

Seishirou chuckles bashfully.  "You knew?"

"You weren't being subtle about it."

"Does that mean I have your blessing?" Seishirou asks.

"Do you need my blessing?"

Seishirou guffaws.  "Well, you _will_ be my sister-in-law, ahaha!"

Hokuto doesn't laugh.  She just looks at him.  "Sei-chan."

Seishirou falls silent, and the silly smile on his face smooths into something serious.  He meets her gaze unwaveringly, with a kind of quiet resolve that speaks volumes.  "I don't need your blessing," he says.  "I don't need anyone's blessing but Subaru-kun's.  But you're important to him.  You're his family."

Hokuto prods a piece of potato, then adds soy sauce, mirin, sake, sugar.  Then she puts a lid on the pot and asks, "Was it love at first sight?"

"Of course."  There's no joking in Seishirou now; he doesn't add an exaggerated laugh or a dopey smile like he so often does.  If anything, his answer is too quick, as though he expected the question.  As though he's been thinking about it for a long, long time.  "From the first time I met him, I knew that Subaru-kun was something special."

And that's the crux of it, isn't it?  Subaru is special, and Seishirou knows that.  He doesn't just know it in a logical, sanitized way; he holds it like a tenet of faith, something he lives and breathes, something that flows out in every gesture and look.  He meets Subaru at the train station:   _You are special._   He invites Subaru to come say hello to canine patients at the clinic:  _You are special._ He invites Subaru to vent his frustration and despair after a tough job:   _You are special_.

Someday, this will sink in.  Someday, Subaru will really believe that he is special to Seishirou.  When that day comes, Subaru will understand what it's like to care about someone for himself, to have someone special for his own sake.  And when that day comes, Hokuto can only hope that Seishirou proves himself to be the man he claims to be, that his love for Subaru is what he claims it is.

Someday she'll say all these things to Seishirou.  _I like you,_ she'll say, _but I don't trust you.  I don't know who you really are.  I don't know why you appeared in our lives.  But I know that you can be special to Subaru, and he deserves that.  He deserves to have something he cares about above everything else, someone to love something whole-heartedly for his own sake.  He deserves that, and you can be that to him.  But if you don't deserve him--if you hurt him in any way--I will haunt you to the end of your days._

She'll say it, someday, but not today.  Because today there's nikujaga simmering on the stove, and Subaru is dozing in the living room, and Seishirou has just looked at her and said with disarming earnestness, _I love him_ , and she can hear no dissembling in his voice and see no deception in his eyes.

"Why don't you go wake up Subaru?" she says instead.  "Dinner is ready."

Seishirou goes to do just that, and Hokuto spoons out bowls of rice and miso soup.  By the time she carries the pot of nikujaga over to the table, Subaru is sitting down, a hand over his mouth as he yawns.  He perks up at the sight of nikujaga, though, and takes a sniff.  "That smells amazing, Hokuto-chan."

"Ohoho!  It's my own top-secret special recipe," she boasts, setting the pot down with a flourish.

"It can't be too top-secret," Seishirou says with amusement, "because I helped you make it."

"Oh, be quiet, you," she scolds, waving the ladle at him threateningly.  "Make yourself useful and get the rice."

Seishirou laughs gaily and fetches the bowls of rice as ordered, and Subaru watches him every step of the way.  Once he returns, Hokuto dishes out three servings of nikujaga, and they all dig in.  Subaru's eyes widen at the first bite.  "This is really good, Hokuto-chan!"

"Well, of course it is!" Hokuto exclaims.  "It's important to master the feminine arts.  Besides, every family needs someone who can cook!"

"It's a good thing I got to see how you make, then," Seishirou says brightly.  "After all, if Subaru-kun and I are to be married, it's important that I can feed him lots of delicious meals!"

Subaru is instantly bright red.  " _Seishirou-san!_ "

Seishirou and Hokuto both burst out laughing.  Subaru covers his face in both hands.  Seishirou beams at him and eats his own nikujaga.

They eat and talk and laugh loudly, and the pot's level of nikujaga gradually goes down.  Seishirou jokes with Hokuto and gently teases Subaru, fondness underlying every word.  At times, when Hokuto is dominating the conversation, he just gazes at Subaru, his eyes soft.

"Subaru-kun, can I ask you a question?" he asks suddenly.

Subaru cocks his head to the side.  "Of course," he says, sounding surprised that Seishirou even needs to ask.

Seishirou leans his elbow on the tabletop, his chin propped up in his hand.  "Do you have a mark?"

The question comes casually, like he's asking about the weather or tomorrow's schedule.  He's so nonchalant about it that it takes Hokuto's brain a few seconds to register what he's just said, and when she finally realizes, she gasps, one hand clapping over her mouth.  "Sei-chan!"

"Sei-- _Seishirou-san_!"  Subaru is bright red, his eyes wide and scandalized.  "You don't--you--you can't just ask people about their marks!  Especially not in front of other people!  It's a very private matter!  You might hurt someone's feelings!  It--"

"I have a mark," Seishirou says.

Subaru makes a strangled noise and falls silent mid-sentence.  His eyes are about to pop out of his head.  Hokuto, too, stares at Seishirou, dumb with disbelief.

Seishirou just smiles.

"Sei-chan," Hokuto says, feeling a bit faint, "you--you shouldn't go around telling people that."

His smile remains unflinching.  "Maybe not," he agrees, and though his voice is far too cheerful, there's a seriousness in his eyes that's almost frightening.  Then his gaze slides back to Subaru as though magnetized.  "But I had to tell you, Subaru-kun, because my mark is for you.  I know it."

Hokuto presses a hand to her chest, over her racing heart.  Her mouth is desert-dry.  Seishirou is still wearing that pleasant, earnest expression, as though he has absolute certainty in what he's saying, but he  _can't_.  He can't possibly be sure, because he can't possibly know that Subaru has a mark, but he speaks like he _does_ know, and how can he know unless he, too, has a mark?

Subaru stares at Seishirou, looking as stunned as Hokuto feels.  But he collects himself quickly, drops his eyes to his gloved hands and takes a deep breath.  "You can't know that for sure," he says softly.  "Those are last words.  You can't know whose last words they are until you hear them."

 _Until the person who says them dies_ , he doesn't say, but they all think it anyway.

"I know," Seishirou replies.

Subaru averts his eyes and says nothing.  He clutches his right hand in his left, his thumb running over his palm.  But somewhere, so tentative and deep down that Hokuto can barely see it, there's a flicker of a wondrous smile.

* * *

There are two things that Hokuto knows, with absolute certainty, about Sakurazuka Seishirou.  She knows that he is dangerous, that he is powerful and wily and knowledgeable and secretive in all the wrong ways.  That he is more than what he seems, that his connection to the Sakurazukamori is more intimate than he will admit, that he could, if he chose, absolutely destroy them all.

And she knows that Subaru will fall in love with him.

* * *

Hokuto has always known that Subaru has a mark.  She knows it the way she knows so many things, by intuition, by her gut, by a voice whispering inside her.  From the beginning, she knew, without having to be told.

Subaru told her anyway.

The night before Subaru was sent away to Tokyo to begin his onmyouji training, he crawled into Hokuto's bed and curled up beneath her blankets.  They were nine years old.

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he whispered in the darkness.  His eyes glistened.

Loneliness already gnawed at Hokuto's heart, but she did not acknowledge the ache.  Subaru was strong for the rest of the world; she needed to be strong for him.  So instead of hugging him and crying, she forced a reassuring smile.  "You're not going away forever," she said, firm and matter-of-fact.  "I'll see you again soon."

Subaru bit his lip and nodded, his eyes downcast.  He was silent for a long, long while.  Then, with a quivering voice, he said, "Hokuto-chan, can I tell you something?"

Hokuto's reaction was immediate, instinctive, no thought required.  "You can tell me anything," she said.

Subaru swallowed.  "I have a mark," he whispered.

Hokuto gazed at him.  "I know," she said.  "I think I've always known."

Subaru's expression wavered in confusion.  "How did you know?" he asked.

"I just knew," she replied.  "I know you, Subaru.  I knew."

Subaru nodded dubiously.  He clutched his right hand in his left.  Then, slowly, he tugged at his glove.

Hokuto's hand shot out and grabbed his, stopping him mid-motion.  "You can't show me that," she blurted.  "You're not supposed to show other people your mark."

"I want to," Subaru said quietly, with the steel of conviction in his voice, and Hokuto's hand went lax.

She never was able to deny him.

Subaru peeled the glove from his right hand.  He clenched his fist a few times, as though stretching muscles stiff and creaky with disuse, and then he stared at his palm for a moment before turning it Hokuto's way.

Hokuto took his hand gently.  His fingers were cold.  She gripped them tightly, as though she could impart some warmth into him, and then she lowered her eyes to his palm.

The words were written in lovely Japanese, the strokes slender and clean.  The tiny characters ran horizontally across his palm, slotted neatly between his head line and his heart line.

_I love you too much to let you die.  
_

That is the only time Hokuto ever sees his mark, but she will never forget it, not until the day she dies.

Years later, Subaru will come home from a job one day and tell her, "The funniest thing happened at the train station today," and his eyes will light up in a way they never have before, and she will _know_.  She will look at his gloved hands and remember the words written on his palm, and her heart will clench with a joy so fierce it's almost painful.  Because Subaru is fragile and kind and he cares too deeply about everyone but himself, and the world is cold and cruel and it will break his heart a million times.  But somewhere out there is a man who will love him, who will protect him, who will in all likelihood _die_ for him.  And Subaru's heart will surely be broken yet again when he finally hears the last words that are carved into the palm of his hand, but until that moment, he will love and be loved, and that is all Hokuto has ever wanted.

**Author's Note:**

> Jinbou-chou (神保町) is a neighborhood in Tokyo known for having scores, perhaps hundreds, of bookstores.
> 
> Tsutsui Yasutaka is an science fiction author perhaps best known for writing The Girl Who Leapt Through Time.
> 
> Nishimura Kyoutarou is a prolific mystery author perhaps best known for his "Train Mystery" series.
> 
> Nikujaga (肉じゃが) is a Japanese dish, vaguely reminiscent of stew, consisting primarily of meat, potato, and onion.
> 
> Subaru's mark reads,「僕は君を死なせたりしませんよ、好きなんですから」, which can be loosely translated as "I love you too much to let you die." However, thanks to interesting aspects of the causative in Japanese, this actually has more ambiguity than the translation would suggest. 死なせる _shinaseru_ is the causative of 死ぬ _shinu_ , "to die"--in other words, it means "to cause someone to die." But whether this means to _let_ someone die (i.e. of outside causes) or to _make_ someone die (i.e. kill them) is impossible to know without context.
> 
> Hokuto, of course, interprets it in the most positive way she can.
> 
> To Jougetsu: I was so excited to be able to write this for you. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I hope you have a wonderful AU Exchange!


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